Read Online The Eldorado Network by Derek Robinson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Derek Robinson
Tags: Fiction
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wet, anyway.' He gave the grenade to Luis Luis weighed the weapon in his palm. It felt smoothly sinister.
'Rifles and grenades,' Townsend said. 'That was all they gave you? No mortars, no machine-guns?'
Davis heaved the sandbag over to the damaged slot and sat on it. 'We each had a shosser,' he said.
'Shosser?' Townsend repeated. 'Is that a make, or a nickname, or what?'
'It's French,' Davis said. 'It must be a very dirty French word. The French invented it, anyway.'
'What does it do?' Townsend was happier; even if Summers came back now, the gist of the story was down on paper. 'Is it automatic?'
'Completely automatic. Fires two-rounds and automatically jams.'
Luis studied the way Townsend and Davis were looking at each other: the American serious and questioning, the Englishman slouched, sombre, dull with anger. Luis sensed a violence that was beyond warfare, a despair beyond death, and it made him uncomfortable. He wished to help, if only he knew how.
Townsend asked: 'Didn't you know about the jamming?'
'None of us had fired the shosser before we made that attack. Not many of us fired the bloody silly thing after it, either.'
'Sounds like someone made a sweet little deal... I'd like to see one of your shossers.'
'Help yourself.' Davis waved an arm. 'They're all out there.'
'Ah.' Townsend put his notebook away. 'In that case I guess it's time for lunch. Can I get you any -- '
'Sir, please!' Luis interrupted. 'You wish to have this weapon?'
Townsend shrugged. 'Sure. Maybe there's a name on it, something to identify . . . You know where you can lay your hands on one?'
Luis dodged past him, put one foot in the observation slit, and heaved himself onto the rim of the pit. Townsend shouted and Davis grabbed, but Luis jumped onto the hillside and began running. The slope seemed vaster and far steeper now that he was a part of it; he had a jumbled impression of rocks and scrub plunging to a distant, hazy flatness where a river gleamed, everything about him seeming huge and hanging high after the snugness of the observation post.
Then the bullets came.
He was dodging from rock to rock, and the harsh and startling crack! crack! from behind made him think that Davis was firing. At him? Luis stopped, looked back. Immediately the rocks in front detonated a string of blasts. Luis saw the stony splinters fly, and remembered the explosive bullets. He fell flat, and a steely whine raced overhead and made a crisp bang higher up the hillside.
The ground felt awkward and unhelpful, poking into his ribs and thighs and twisting one foot against the wishes of its ankle. A tangy fragrance reached his nose from a shrub crushed by his fall. Luis elbowed himself towards a larger rock. The shrub slowly swung upright and shivered to a tunnelling bullet which blew up far behind him.
The rock sheltered Luis as long as he lay flat and kept still. 'You didn't have to do that, son,' came Davis's voice. 'I'd have washed my feet, if only you'd asked nicely.'
'Where is a shosser?' Luis shouted. 'I cannot see any damned shossers.' As he squinted around him, he realised that he would not recognise a shosser even if he saw one.
'Are you crazy?' Townsend called. Under stress, his accent twanged like a big bow. 'Forget the sonofabitching shosser! Get your ass the hell back in here!'
Some ants were crawling up Luis's right leg. He half-raised it to knock them off and instantly attracted another bullet.
'Don't for Chrissake move!' Townsend shouted.
'One thing I've learnt..." Davis began conversationally.
Luis rolled onto his back and gazed in wonder at the sky. I have been under fire, he thought, and I have not disgraced myself! He beat his heel on the ground to dislodge the ants, failed, and decided to tolerate them; he and they had much in common, exposed to sudden death in strange surroundings.
'Listen, Luis!' It was Townsend again. 'Stay put, you hear me? Wait there till dark. You got that?'
'Sure, sure,' Luis murmured. Lie behind a rock
'Rifles and grenades,' Townsend said. 'That was all they gave you? No mortars, no machine-guns?'
Davis heaved the sandbag over to the damaged slot and sat on it. 'We each had a shosser,' he said.
'Shosser?' Townsend repeated. 'Is that a make, or a nickname, or what?'
'It's French,' Davis said. 'It must be a very dirty French word. The French invented it, anyway.'
'What does it do?' Townsend was happier; even if Summers came back now, the gist of the story was down on paper. 'Is it automatic?'
'Completely automatic. Fires two-rounds and automatically jams.'
Luis studied the way Townsend and Davis were looking at each other: the American serious and questioning, the Englishman slouched, sombre, dull with anger. Luis sensed a violence that was beyond warfare, a despair beyond death, and it made him uncomfortable. He wished to help, if only he knew how.
Townsend asked: 'Didn't you know about the jamming?'
'None of us had fired the shosser before we made that attack. Not many of us fired the bloody silly thing after it, either.'
'Sounds like someone made a sweet little deal... I'd like to see one of your shossers.'
'Help yourself.' Davis waved an arm. 'They're all out there.'
'Ah.' Townsend put his notebook away. 'In that case I guess it's time for lunch. Can I get you any -- '
'Sir, please!' Luis interrupted. 'You wish to have this weapon?'
Townsend shrugged. 'Sure. Maybe there's a name on it, something to identify . . . You know where you can lay your hands on one?'
Luis dodged past him, put one foot in the observation slit, and heaved himself onto the rim of the pit. Townsend shouted and Davis grabbed, but Luis jumped onto the hillside and began running. The slope seemed vaster and far steeper now that he was a part of it; he had a jumbled impression of rocks and scrub plunging to a distant, hazy flatness where a river gleamed, everything about him seeming huge and hanging high after the snugness of the observation post.
Then the bullets came.
He was dodging from rock to rock, and the harsh and startling crack! crack! from behind made him think that Davis was firing. At him? Luis stopped, looked back. Immediately the rocks in front detonated a string of blasts. Luis saw the stony splinters fly, and remembered the explosive bullets. He fell flat, and a steely whine raced overhead and made a crisp bang higher up the hillside.
The ground felt awkward and unhelpful, poking into his ribs and thighs and twisting one foot against the wishes of its ankle. A tangy fragrance reached his nose from a shrub crushed by his fall. Luis elbowed himself towards a larger rock. The shrub slowly swung upright and shivered to a tunnelling bullet which blew up far behind him.
The rock sheltered Luis as long as he lay flat and kept still. 'You didn't have to do that, son,' came Davis's voice. 'I'd have washed my feet, if only you'd asked nicely.'
'Where is a shosser?' Luis shouted. 'I cannot see any damned shossers.' As he squinted around him, he realised that he would not recognise a shosser even if he saw one.
'Are you crazy?' Townsend called. Under stress, his accent twanged like a big bow. 'Forget the sonofabitching shosser! Get your ass the hell back in here!'
Some ants were crawling up Luis's right leg. He half-raised it to knock them off and instantly attracted another bullet.
'Don't for Chrissake move!' Townsend shouted.
'One thing I've learnt..." Davis began conversationally.
Luis rolled onto his back and gazed in wonder at the sky. I have been under fire, he thought, and I have not disgraced myself! He beat his heel on the ground to dislodge the ants, failed, and decided to tolerate them; he and they had much in common, exposed to sudden death in strange surroundings.
'Listen, Luis!' It was Townsend again. 'Stay put, you hear me? Wait there till dark. You got that?'
'Sure, sure,' Luis murmured. Lie behind a rock
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